summoned servant of one of the cell's operatives, its entry was authorized, set off none of the mystical safeguards. Still, many of the guards at the door reacted to what they perceived as a threat, pulling blades, stabbing and swinging at the tiny alien thing that appeared suddenly in their midst. Ignixnax only giggled louder and darted around their swords with contemptuous ease, even taking a second to whip one of them in the face with its barbed tail before proceeding into the halls. And with that it was off into the winding halls, its twitching tail splattering bits of the foolish guard's blood and aqueous humor onto the carpet and the walls, until finally it arrived at its destination. Hovering unevenly, it reached out and scratched deeply at the wood of the door.
The door opened with a series of clicks and the faint hum of a mystic glyph deactivating, and Gemreth stuck his head out into the passage.
'I,' the imp tittered at him in profane delight, 'know where to find Jace Beleren.'
And it was Gemreth's turn to pound through the halls of the complex, sprinting his way toward Paldor's office, Ignixnax perched on his shoulder and chortling all the while.
Jace was still smiling as he worked his way through the market throng, content enough that he didn't even feel the need to elbow anyone. Here he waved at someone he recognized from Eshton's, there he stopped by a stall to examine a coppersmith's wares before deciding to look a little further. He caught the faint aroma of fresh fish as he watched a pair of stevedores unloading crates of the stuff under the watchful eyes of some private guards. That, in turn, put him briefly in mind of Kallist; he wondered if the man might be somewhere nearby, guarding his employer's shops, or perhaps one of the many warehouses that lined the south and east sides of the marketplace.
And even that thought wasn't enough to ruin Jace's good mood; if anything, he almost hoped he'd run into his old friend, have the chance to talk to him again now that some time had elapsed. He was absolutely ecstatic about feeling normal, although he'd never have recognized the sensation and would have denied it if he had. Here he was happy, here he was safe, and if he was still too ambitious and too enamored of his magics for that to satisfy him indefinitely, for a while at least it would be enough.
But Jace Beleren didn't have a while left to him.
'They come.'
Liliana-who mere moments ago left Jace behind in the market, to run his errands as she ran hers-pulled up short, ignoring the curses of the older man who almost ran into her from behind with his armload of loaves of bread. Moving far more carefully, eyes darting every which way, she moved off the main thoroughfare into a darkened doorway.
'You're sure?' she whispered, when she was certain nobody paid her much attention.
'You told us,' the voice continued, and now she could barely make out a ghostly, humanoid shape among the other shadows, 'keep watch as we spread our tales, keep watch for those who would respond to them. Do you doubt us now?'
'No, of course not.'
'Then be warned. They come.'
Damn. She'd hoped to have a few more days. They must have really rushed, to get here so quickly!
'Go,' she told the lurking specter, 'and gather the others. Keep watch over him. Warn or protect him where you can, but do not let yourself be detected.'
The specter nodded, vanishing with a faint hiss into the shadows once more. And Liliana herself dived back into the crowd, heading back the way she had come, the words of a spell already skittering like spiders across her lips.
Jace felt a faint cold chill running down his spine, a shudder with no apparent cause. His hackles rose, and he spun swiftly to see nothing unusual at all: Just the press of the crowd, the occasional lizard-drawn cart, the various stalls, the buildings rising up beyond the bazaar's borders. He saw nothing alarming, and almost attributed the sudden shiver to an errant breeze, but it had felt so much like the necromantic energies Liliana commanded, the touch of her aura. Was she here, somewhere in the crowd? Was it an attack, something with an effect he hadn't yet sensed? Or…
Just then Jace spotted him at the edge of the crowd. He'd never have noticed him had that strange chill not caressed him, causing him to turn; and he'd never have paid much attention even then, for the blue-skinned folk were hardly a rarity in Ravnica's many districts.
But the vedalken stared at him in turn, and Jace needed only to meet his eyes to recognize Sevrien's intense and unblinking stare.
They found us!
Immediately Jace was fighting his way through the crowd, his burning urgency and rising fear at war with his desire to remain hidden, unnoticed. He saw them everywhere he looked, now, men and women who might be wearing the simple garb of laborers rather than their accustomed chain shirts, but who nonetheless moved with the poise of trained Consortium soldiers. He even recognized a few faces, and why not? He'd dwelt in the same building as these folks for quite some time, even if he'd never bothered to learn most of their names.
From all sides they converged, slow but inexorable, gliding or shoving their way through the crowds. Jace glanced back over his shoulder, saw Sevrien turn and shout orders to someone else Jace couldn't detect, pointing not in Jace's direction but off to the side. Was he ordering someone around, to try to intercept him, or…
Liliana. Had they found Liliana?
He was all but running now, as much as the press of the throng would allow. Eldritch syllables dripped from his tongue, and with every few steps he was someone else, illusion after illusion flitting across his body. Now he was an old man, shuffling along, wrapped in rags that had once been beautiful finery; now a loxodon, his tusks and trunk and platter-sized ears protruding from above the heads of the crowd; now a goblin, peering this way and that for a merchant who might be willing to deal with her kind. Sometimes the images came from his imagination alone, other times from individuals he saw or bumped into in the crowd; anything to confuse the many watching eyes. Few in the packed bazaar even noticed the sudden changes, so intent were they on their own endeavors, and those who did could only blink and stare, uncertain what they'd just seen.
For a time his misdirection kept his pursuers at bay, confused and uncertain where he'd gone, or even who he was. Still there were so many, and they knew well whom they faced. And slowly, oh so slowly, their noose drew tight, as ever more Consortium swords converged on the market's center.
'Everything ready?' asked Kallist, standing in the doorway of a great warehouse beside a wagon that creaked beneath a dozen heavy crates. Already a series of administrative and paperwork delays had kept the imported textiles out of the market for hours; half the day was already wasted. The boss was not going to be happy if they lost any more time, but Kallist had his procedures, and procedures would not be rushed.
'Not, uh, not entirely, Commander,' reported the guard whose job it was to scout the streets between here and the vendors, to watch for any dangerous activity on the part of their rivals.
'And what does 'not entirely' mean?'
'Well, it doesn't seem to have anything to do with us. But something's going on in the bazaar. A whole lot of people there, Commander, and pretty heavily armed.'
Kallist scowled. Was the cold war between the merchant families about to combust? 'Could you tell who they work for? Or at least whose shipments they're trying to intercept?'
'That's just it, though. They're not moving in a single block, and they're not focusing on any given family or guild. I've seen manhunts before, Commander, and I'd swear they're looking for a person.'
Kallist's heart sank. It could have been someone else they were after-but who? Who in Lurias was that important?
And in that moment, the past months ceased to matter. All that mattered was that the man who'd been his friend and brother, the man who'd saved his life, was threatened.
'The shipment stays here,' Kallist barked. 'And so do you.'
He was off and running, one hand on the pommel of his broadsword, before the guard could even draw breath to question.
So focused was he on maintaining his illusions, Jace never saw her coming.
